


I've Forgotten but You Remember

by ambivalentlangst



Series: The Legendary Event [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Lance deserves the world okay, Langst, Memory Loss, Platonic Shance, Shiro is a poor dad struggling to survive and raise children, The Legendary Event, Whump, but for the wrong reasons, coran is Good and Deserves More, he's gonna get better okay but not in this fic, heavily implied past domestic violence, just a lil and it's to lead into the main plot, shangst, sneaky boi Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalentlangst/pseuds/ambivalentlangst
Summary: Shiro loves his team, but he hasn't always been there when he's needed most. He can only be grateful Lance doesn't know that.





	I've Forgotten but You Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Made for day three of the Legendary Event, Memory Loss! I really enjoyed today's work and writing for, Shiro's POV tbh.  
> -  
> tw: heavily implied domestic violence

At first, the trip had been nothing to worry about. It was a mission planetside, gathering some odd chemical the Alteans used to make the food goo warm, that could be found in a plant they were going to gather. Shiro didn’t understand, but as with most things nowadays sometimes it was just better not to ask. Lance drew the short stick, so he had to go with. What that really meant was that Coran decided Lance was best suited for the task because he liked how he cleaned the pods, and figured he was good for similar things. He’d told Shiro, though quite firmly instructed him not to say anything to Lance because the boy already had an ego and it was not necessary to add fuel to that particular fire. They were hacking open vines and scraping them clean when Lance finally ripped off his helmet with a tired sigh. A hand rose to his temples, wiping the sweat beaded there. Shiro couldn’t blame him, and half wanted to do so himself with the humid, cloying air fogging their helmets and creating a layer of sweat over his entire body in a manner most definitely uncomfortable.

“Lance,” he reprimanded him lightly, more out of duty to be the adult figure (Shiro wanted a word with whoever decided he was a functional human being, for the record) than anything else. Lance hadn’t done anything but wave him off.

“Coran said the atmosphere was weird, not fatal,” he replied brusquely in that sharp tongue of his. Shiro couldn’t find it within himself to care, and let it go without pondering it any longer. The sooner they got off this planet with its disgusting heat, the better. They were both headed back to the pod they’d taken while carrying barrels of the plant goo of an admittedly large size, when Lance stumbled, and then collapsed. It took Shiro a moment to realize, having trudged ahead to forge a path with his Galra arm. However, in the silence that followed where Lance’s steady stream of pants and gasps had previously filled, Shiro took notice. He dropped their cargo, and rushed him back to the castle.

A short stint in the healing pods later, and with Shiro feeling like he’d just had a mini heart attack, Coran diagnosed him with heat stroke due to the temperature regulating unit in his suit malfunctioning. However, there was also something unusual that showed up in his scans. A few small changes in his brain, perhaps temporary, perhaps not. Coran was unsure, as he elaborated.

“The atmosphere on Yuulben has an odd gas to it, that I was afraid might cause things like this in you folk.” And by that he meant humans, Shiro deduced. “Lance, my boy,” he explained, as the paladin in question watched them speak over Shiro’s shoulder, “You might have a bit of memory loss. It’s quite interesting, actually. If my hypothesis is correct, it should target more traumatic, older experiences you’ve had throughout your life. Not to worry, though!” He clapped Lance over the shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling with affection as he stared at who was quite clearly his favorite. “You should be fit as a hulmebetral regardless! Maybe even a little better than before, if the memories really are gone and don’t come back. Used to be a sort of home-done therapy backon Altea, used to clear the mind. You know-” Coran rambled on about his home while the black and newly red paladin listened, and the thought of what might’ve been happening in Lance’s head was forgotten altogether.

It took Shiro awhile to realize something was different, and even longer to realize why.

Lance had always been agile, able to dodge faster than anybody else on the team, and that had been chalked up to good reflexes. However, after the mission, for a short period of time he started taking a few more blows here and there. Nothing major, nothing to seriously hurt him and he made up for it quickly before the lapse caused him harm on a mission, but it happened. The slip was there and as leader, Shiro couldn’t help but to notice the little holes in their defense. Still, it was small enough to be forgotten. It was only a minor detail in the face of their overwhelming task.

The next sign came as Lance’s volume went up. Oh of course he was always loud. Lance was excellent at arguing with anyone and everyone, could talk for hours to a brick wall if he wanted to and never had a shortage of snarky remarks to sling at whoever needed to be knocked down a few pegs. That was just Lance as a person, but on missions there was nobody Shiro knew to be better at silent infiltration. Even in the boots attached to their uniforms, Lance could move so quickly and quietly it was almost eery. Even on the rare occasion where he tripped, he rolled and landed and held still while he waited for the echo of such things to fade, tensed like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. After the incident, he clattered around easily, tripping and cussing up a storm that Shiro had to chastise him later about. It was another detail, that Shiro filed away this time more carefully.

The giveaway for Shiro was how he handled fights, real fights, though. On the ship, they couldn’t all get along and that was just a part of things. Lance had no problem stating an opinion, even getting into the thick of things. However, when tempers started rising, when things got truly and deeply tense in a way that just got under everyone’s skin in a prickling, foreboding way Lance had always put distance between himself and the source. It wasn’t obvious, and in a sense might even be logical. Why should he be in the thick of things? However, there was a difference between stating an opinion and going for the jugular. Oh of course Lance was not cruel, never had been and Shiro hoped that if things ended as they should in this fight they were in he never would be. Still, Shiro realized he had largely come to bite his tongue before. After, he’d go after anyone and everyone, given proper reason.

“That’s _shit_ and you know it so forgive me if-”

  
“This plan will kill us all and it’s going to be your fault if you won’t take a goddamn second to listen-”

Even worse than that, and such remarks were already far beyond diplomatic. Lance had been coaxed out of reservations nobody realized he’d had even had, and Shiro didn’t understand why. At least, not until he was alone with Lance, and got to speaking with him.

How past relationships had come up, he wasn’t sure. They’d just been talking, Lance being his usual happy self while he teased Shiro for being a “beefcake” and a “dilf.” Another thing he did not understand, but did understand that it was better not to ask about. It was then that he asked, and Shiro honestly said that aside from a few junior high relationships that had more been for show than anything, he really hadn’t done anything with anyone. When he turned the question back to Lance, he’d shrugged.  
  
“On and off with a lot of people. Girls, mostly. There was one guy, a little older. We dated for a year or so, before I went off to the Garrison.” Lance smiled, looking to Shiro with a fond softness to his striking features. He looked down again quickly, twiddling his thumbs. “Mama never liked him much though, so I didn’t take him home as often as I’d have liked.” He laughed, though Shiro inexplicably felt something dark settle into the pit of his stomach, writhing with such contempt and animosity it burned. Lance was happy, why did he feel that way?  
  
“Why didn’t your mom like him?” Lance shrugged, putting his arms behind his head as a yawn stretched his pink lips wide.

“I don’t remember, honestly. It was awhile ago, yeah? He was different, I guess.” Lance thought for a moment. “He was always getting into fights, but that was fine. I liked patching him up, I’m pretty sure. I liked being wanted. I just wanted him to want me. Pretty clingy back then, but I don’t think he really cared. He was great that way.” Lance was silent for a few moments, while Shiro felt the dark feelings in him rear it’s head.  
  
“That’s so strange, I really don’t remember much of him at all.” Shiro felt something cold wash over him, that puckered his skin and made his flesh arm tense.

_Memory loss._

_Getting into fights._

_Traumatic experience._  
  
“Well, it’s been good talking to you, Shiro,” Lance sighed as he stood, sticking his arms high above him and clenching his eyes shut as he yawned. Shiro saw a few little scars by his eye crinkle that he hadn’t noticed before, faded as they were. “I’m going to hit the hay. ‘Night!” Lance smiled and waved as he turned his back to walk out, but Shiro could only watch. He finally understood the things that had changed within him, and it made him sick to know.


End file.
